Skyline
by Marmalah
Summary: At this point, they were hostages, but soon they would only be victims. "I don't want to be someone forgotten; someone lost in the hundreds that would die in a tragedy." / In honor of those who died on September 11th.


_Mmkay, so I know this is kinda late by almost a week, but I got the idea of writing this in memory of September 11th. I started writing this on Sunday, but because of school I haven't gotten around to finishing it until now. Sorry :p_

_ABOUT THE FACTS: I looked on wikipedia for most of the fact stuff, but of course I don't know what actually happened on the plane, so I'm sorry if some of this stuff seems like it wouldn't happen. I wrote this completely off the top of my head. I'm also really sorry if the ending seems rushed & Kanda seems kinda out of character. I tried. -_- Or any other parts for that matter. I kinda had to drag it out a bit so it wouldn't be super short._

_Kay, nuff ranting. Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-Man or any of the other stuff you might think I own but I really don't._

_edit: so, i saw a shit ton of typos and i fixed them and i'm very sorry to whoever had to read this story with them. -_- there was a word, "jump" that i'd accidently put in as "hump"... needless to say, it made me laugh my ass off._

_everything should be okay now! if you see another typo, please tell me. ^-^_

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><p><strong>Skyline<strong>

It was like any other Tuesday morning. Los Angeles was bustling with people, the sky was as blue as could be and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The morning air was crisp, but not uncomfortably cool – it was the epitome of a perfect day. September 11 started out like any other day on the calendar.

What Kanda was looking forward to, though, was that Allen was flying in. The 17-year-old was gathering the few final things from his apartment, since he and Kanda had finally decided to move in together after meeting with each other for over a year. Being so far apart was too much; even being apart for a day seemed like forever to them.

Allen was flying on American Airlines Flight 11, leaving from Boston, Massachusetts. As he boarded the plane, snowy white hair bouncing around his face, he broke out into a huge smile. _I can't wait to see Kanda. This is going to be a great day, I can tell. _His heart was beating fast in his chest in excitement. _In five hours, I'll be able to see him. And after that, I'll be able to see him every day, whenever I want to. I hope he's as excited as I am._

Allen took his seat, not quite in the middle of the plane but not in the very front. He was sitting alone in seat 9G, which was perfectly fine with him – he was planning to sleep most of the time anyway. He'd woken up at 6 that morning, which was fairly early for him, but he couldn't sleep at all last night anyway. Just the thought of seeing Kanda again made him smile.

The plane took off, and Allen was practically asleep.

* * *

><p>The shrill sound of the alarm clock broke through his dreams, and Kanda barely restrained himself from smashing it to pieces with a half-clenched fist. <em>Why do I have to get up so early…? <em>He thought drearily, propping himself up on one elbow and using his other arm to rub at his eyes. As soon as they focused on the clock, they widened and he jumped up, all tiredness forgotten.

"Shit, it's already seven!" Kanda hissed, tripping over clothes from last night to reach his bathroom. He took a quick 10 minute shower, and as soon as he was out he was jumping into a pair of jeans as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Are you at the airport already?" The Japanese man questioned irritably as soon as he had pressed _talk _on his ringing phone – of course it was Allen, no one else would've been calling him this early, since he'd taken the day off of work. He listened to the beansprout ramble on in half-coherent sentences as he grabbed a white button-up shirt and put it on, though most of the buttons were in the wrong holes. Coffee was brewing, toast was in the toaster, and the TV had already been turned on even if the mute button was pressed immediately. Allen had most of his attention at the moment.

"_Just got here, Kanda. The plane doesn't start boarding for probably another 10 minutes. They said it's supposed to take off at 7:45, so chill." _Allen's voice came from the other end of the phone, amused and somehow annoyed at the same time. _"It's gonna be a 5 hour flight, I think," _Allen murmured, disappointed.

Kanda just rolled his eyes, even if Allen couldn't see it. "I'll be waiting here, Moyashi. When you get here we'll go out to eat or some shit."

"_Nice word choice," _Allen answered sarcastically, though he couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his throat. _"I should go, we're boarding now. I'll talk to you later." _The line went dead, and Kanda continued his morning routine with a small smirk.

* * *

><p>It was about fifteen minutes into his nap when he was startled awake. He looked around in dazed confusion, but he froze as he turned to the left. Blood. Why was there blood spilling all over the floor? <em>What's going on…? <em>Allen almost didn't want to know. A body was lying on the floor in seat 9B, eyes staring vacantly back into his and blood pouring out of his neck. Behind him was a man with a knife; Allen of course had no idea who he was.

After a few minutes of screaming and crying, everything was quiet. Deafeningly quiet. Allen could still feel the dead man's eyes on him – he could feel his skin crawling and his body shaking, but he didn't completely register what was happening.

_"We have some planes. Just stay quiet and you'll be okay. We are returning to the airport."_

The voice was coming from the loudspeaker.

_"Nobody move. Everything will be okay. If you try to make any moves, you'll endanger yourself and the airplane. Just stay quiet."_

Allen almost stood up, but thought better of it. What if he got everyone killed by doing so? He couldn't risk it. _I don't want to sit here and do nothing… but I don't know what I can do. The plane's been hijacked. _It didn't even cross his mind what could happen to him, not yet. He closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing sounding loud and erratic in his ears. He could feel his chest moving up and down, too fast; air was coming in but leaving his lungs too quickly.

Allen forced himself to stop and take a deep breath. He wouldn't do anyone any good by hyperventilating. He peered around, using his hair as almost a shield, before he grabbed his phone and dialed a number he'd always known by heart.

"Kanda," he murmured, his voice no higher than a whisper, "My plane… it's been hijacked. I don't think we're going to Los Angeles anymore."

* * *

><p>Kanda hadn't been expecting another call from Allen. Not yet. He'd only been in the air for… what, 30 minutes? Something like that. So when his phone started to ring, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he answered, "Moyashi?"<p>

"_Kanda," _there was a pause on the other end. Why was he whispering? Why was his voice wavering, and why did he sound so scared? Kanda was panicking, and Allen had only said one word. _"My plane… it's been hijacked. I don't think we're going to Los Angeles anymore."_

He almost dropped the phone. "What?" He forced out, even though he'd heard Allen clearly. Too clearly; his words were echoing in his head in a way that made him feel like he was going to be sick. "You… they… what?" He didn't know what to say. "What's going on, Allen?" The uncommon use of his name mean he was serious – Allen wouldn't joke about something like this.

"I don't know, Kanda." The lack of an answer and the helplessness in Allen's voice didn't help to calm Kanda. "I don't know if…" He stopped, and the Japanese could hear the brush of his hair against the phone like he was shaking his head. He didn't continue, and Kanda didn't press the subject. He had a feeling that the reason Allen didn't finish because he didn't want this to be a goodbye. Neither of them wanted to give up hope, no matter how fast it was dwindling.

"Look out a window or something. Can you see where you are?" Kanda ordered, letting the fear get to him for just a moment. He was trying his hardest to stay strong; to not let Allen in on the fact that inside he was horrified. His heart clenched in panic as he heard Allen's shuddering breaths on the other end. He couldn't bear to think about how scared he must be right now. Kanda could feel his own deep breath stuck in his throat.

"Can't," came Allen's delayed reply. "I'm seated in the middle. Oh, God, Kanda… there's this man – dead, he's dead – there's blood all over the floor. He won't stop staring at me, Kanda, I don't know what to –"

Allen stopped, and then there was silence. He'd hung up.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck are you doing?" There was a rough voice in his ear, sending goosebumps all the way down to his legs – and not in a good way. There was a heavy accent to his English and it was obvious he didn't know the language very well – only the basics.<p>

_This is one of… them…_

"Nothing," he forced out after a moment. He tried to keep his breathing slowed, as if it could stop altogether. Or maybe if he stopped moving, the man wouldn't see him anymore and he'd forget about him. If only.

"Shut up, bitch, I know what you doin and I don't like liars. It was rhetorical question," he snapped back. The man slapped him, hard, and he felt his cheek start to throb. "It doesn't matter who you call. No one save you." He sneered.

There was something cold on his neck. Allen froze, moving his eyes down to rest on the knife that was glinting maliciously in the dim fluorescent lighting overhead. The knife pressed harder into his skin and the dead man with the vacant eyes flashed forward from his memory. _I don't want to become like him. I don't want to be someone forgotten. _Allen felt blood trickle down, staining the collar of his white shirt into a rusty red. The knife slid down, ripping his shirt and more skin as it went. It stopped at the top of his pants, and Allen turned to fully face the man with wide eyes.

_Don't do... don't you dare. _Allen was shaking now, and he felt like he was looking back at a predator. He was prey; there was no escape. "Don't touch me!" He yelled, though it sounded louder in the previous silence. He almost considered telling someone to help – to get this man away, far away, maybe thousands of feet on the ground – but he didn't. That would mean putting someone else's life in danger, and he didn't want that.

"Little brat, shut up or I'll slit your throat, just like him." The terrorist pointed his knife vaguely to Allen's left, but he didn't need to look to know he'd be staring into glassy eyes again.

"Don't you dare… Just get away from me," Allen whispered under his breath, keeping his stormy eyes focused on the knife. The terrorist didn't hear him, but he smirked.

The knife skipped down to his thigh and sliced to the bottom on his pants, a line of bright red blooming up and following the knife soon after. "If you don't want me to touch you, convince me that's what you want. Beg. Plead. Plead for your life and your pure little innocence to be spared." The terrorist dragged his words out, breathing them over Allen's face like smoke. It smelled foul, so unlike Kanda's minty cool scent. He always smelled amazing, and Allen wondered if he'd ever be able to push his face into his chest and smell what made him smell like Kanda. Pure, wonderful Kanda.

Just thinking about his name made Allen's heart hurt. Would there ever be another hug, with Kanda's strong arms crushing him to his chest with a strength that could break his bones? There was never pain, only safety, comfort, protectiveness in those hugs. Allen realized with a pang that he couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged Kanda.

"Please," Allen begged, hating himself but also realizing that he had no choice. "Leave me alone, please don't hurt me, don't touch me, I'm begging you just go away. Go away, go away, go –"

The terrorist burst out into a fit of laughter that made half of the people on the plane jump. He held his gut and laughed, as if Allen had just told the best joke in the world. _I'm begging for my life and you laugh at me? _Allen's eyes narrowed and he thought, _heartless. That heartless bastard. _But that was obvious – if he was willing to hijack a plane and kill all of the people on it, he wasn't a very caring person.

The man wiped nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes. "Kid, you're such a piece of shit." He spat at him and walked away.

* * *

><p>Kanda practically had a heart attack when Allen called back. "What the fuck happened? Why did you hang up on me?" Kanda reverted to anger in exchange for worry, because it was always something that came easier to him. He had been pacing his kitchen for who-knew-how-long, wondering what had happened.<p>

"I'm sorry, there were some difficulties." Allen didn't elaborate any further and Kanda growled in warning. "One of the men came up. I didn't want him to take my phone." Allen hoped Kanda couldn't tell he was lying. If he told him what really happened then he'd be even more worried. He didn't need that. Kanda didn't press the subject anymore, and Allen silently sighed in relief.

Those few moments of silence were like hell, until Kanda murmured, "Is there any way…" He cleared his throat, and in that moment he hated himself for getting so attached. He hated that he had to fall for someone so annoying and stupid and beautiful. He hated Allen for being so alluring, passionate, and kindhearted – for stealing away Kanda's heart, that he himself hadn't even knew could feel anything but hate. Allen had his heart with him, now, even on that plane; whatever happened would happen to him too and he was scared.

"Is there any way you're ever going to… make it? To Los Angeles?" He didn't want to ask the actual question that plagued his mind. _Are you going to come back to me? Alive? _

Allen seemed to understand the underlying question – what Kanda had really wanted to say. His voice shook as he said, "No. I don't think I am."

* * *

><p>Allen didn't know how long he'd been on that plane for, but it felt like an eternity. One of the terrorists, which Allen hadn't seen yet, was walking up and down the aisleways as if he were a steward. He kept his knife in plain sight as a warning and a permanent smirk curved his lips upward is an ugly expression. No one said a word.<p>

Allen had gotten off the phone with Kanda, who had said he was going to call the police. He didn't have the heart to tell him that there wasn't a thing they could do. He felt helpless, sitting on a plane with nameless, faceless people, who all shared the same expression of mixed terror and nervousness. These were the people he would die with, he assumed, but they meant nothing to him.

He'd given up the hope of making it out alive – what were the terrorists going to do, land the plane and let them walk off? Allen doubted it. Everyone had already seen their faces, too, so they could be turned in easily and all of this would have been for nothing.

At this point, they were hostages, but soon they would only be victims.

Allen cringed at the thought that he, too, would become someone without a face or a name. Someone lost in hundreds that would die in a tragedy. His hands were shaking, now, as he picked up his phone. It was blinking, silently telling him that there was someone calling him – someone he'd never see again. Someone he'd never hug or kiss or touch ever again. He grimaced and answered the phone.

"Hey, Kanda," he murmured, cringing at how casual he sounded. Allen honestly had no idea how he was so calm at the moment. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was acceptance of his situation. "How are you?"

"Don't even attempt to make the mood lighter with all this 'hey, how are you?' bullshit, Moyashi." Allen smiled at the familiar nickname. "Don't ask me that, you know how I'm feeling." Kanda was snappy and pissed, but Allen could tell it wasn't completely because of the question he asked.

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone; if Allen closed his eyes, maybe this wouldn't be happening. He could imagine himself; lying next to Kanda with his breathes echoing in his ear and his hand rubbing up and down his side. He could imagine himself; sitting on the couch after Kanda got home, who was sighing that same sigh. He was disappointed and stressed; that sigh told so many things at once. "There's nothing they can do, Allen."

"I know."

"Aren't you worried? Aren't you scared?" Kanda yelled, sounding frantic on the other end. He'd snapped. Allen closed his eyes and let out a silent sigh of his own, letting Kanda scream and vent as much as he wanted. He needed it, and Allen needed to hear Kanda's voice before he couldn't anymore.

"Of course I'm scared. I'm terrified, and I'm sure anyone would be, Kanda, but there's no point in panicking. I'm using this time to talk to you – I don't know if I'll ever be able to again. I can't do anything in my position and I don't know what's going to happen. I'm completely in the dark, and any second could be my last – I just want it to be with me hearing your voice. That's all that matters." Allen tried his best to stay calm because nothing good would come from screaming and yelling and crying, no matter how much he wished he could do just that.

"You're just going to give up?" Kanda seethed, shock and anger mixing to create a breathy, drawn out question. For a few moments, neither spoke – they just listened to the harsh, angry breaths rebounding through the phone.

"What else do you expect me to do?" Allen yelled, until he realized how loud he was being and lowered his voice to a hiss. "Do you want me to march up to them and get my throat cut? Do you want me to jump out of the fucking plane? _There's nothing I can do._"

Kanda didn't say anything for a long moment. "Goddamnit, Allen, what the hell do we do?" He sounded broken, and Allen almost cried. He'd never heard Kanda sound so _dead. _

"Nothing. There's nothing we can do. Just… stay on the phone with me, please. _I love you. _I love you, Kanda, you don't even know how much I love you. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to say a goodbye, because it hurts so badly, but I don't know how much time I have. You don't know how badly I want to kiss you right now. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that this had to happen –"

"Moyashi. Shut up. _Shut the fuck up,_ quit acting like you could've ever done anything to prevent this. You couldn't. None of it is your fault." Kanda had meant to sound strong, confident, or at least angry, but all his words came out in cracked murmurs. He wanted to break down and cry, but he couldn't, not while he was on the phone with Allen. Even in this situation, his pride wouldn't allow him to do so, so he just closed his eyes to keep rising tears at bay.

Allen just nodded mutely, even though he knew the person on the other end couldn't see it. Then, suddenly, the plane turned abruptly to the side and then back to a flying straight. Allen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and it did it again. "What's going on?" He yelled, hoping someone would answer him.

"We're… in New York. Oh my God, oh my God." Allen didn't know who said it, and he didn't care. He had a vague understanding of what was going to happen, and he felt panic rising rapidly. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated and practically hiding all silver from sight.

His heart was beating frantically in his chest, and with shaking hands he held the phone as close to his ear as he possibly could. "I love you."

* * *

><p>Kanda could hear a quiet <em>"oh my God" <em>on the other end, but it didn't sound like it was from Allen. He heard the soft _"I love you" _pass through the phone like a ghost, and he himself questioned, "Allen?" Everything seemed too final, but he whispered his own I love you back.

"_Thank you."_

He heard a woman scream, and the line was dead.

Kanda wasn't sure how long he sat there, just holding the phone. The dial tone was like a song in his ear, but not a pleasant one. To him, it was a song of the dead. He didn't know what the hell had happened, but his hand reached for the remote and he flipped on the TV. Navy-colored eyes slid to the clock, and he realized it was a minute past nine. _It's felt like it's been so much longer._

The news was already on, and a camera was trained on the World Trade Center. The phone was clenched tighter in his hand. "–_and we have unconfirmed reports this morning that a plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center…"_

After a minute of hearing the woman drone on, there was another plane heading straight for the other building. It hit the south tower full-force, and the phone dropped out of Kanda's hand. "Allen's plane was the first one… The same thing happened to him." Saying it aloud made it seem more real; this was actually happening.

_Oh my God. _The woman's scream echoed in his head, and he broke down. Allen was gone. He was no more than ash amongst a burning building with hundreds of other people who were burning too.

Kanda didn't regret meeting Allen. He never regretted falling in love with him. He just never knew it would hurt this much.

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><p><em>reviews are appreciated, mes amours! c;<em>


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